


Songs of Summer

by MageUnderground (Rhaenyrra)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Canon, Angst, Canon Era, Crushes, F/F, First Dates, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Journey to Skyhold, Just Friends, POV Lavellan, Pining, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Skyhold, Slow Burn, Unrequited Crush, honestly the slowest burn ever, only very minor angst dont worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaenyrra/pseuds/MageUnderground
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leliana has spent years learning that sacrifice defines the strong - and oh! the sacrifices she has had to make. It is difficult believing in a world that would let her love when every woman she has ever care for has abandoned her, willfully or not. When the newly appointed Inquisitor makes her romantic intentions clear, the Nightingale knows that to love the woman trying to sew the world back together one fade rift at a time would be foolish. Can the Inquisitor convince her that there is no cause in Thedas worth sacrificing your affection for? A story that focuses on the small moments in between the big important ones - and on the curative powers of some good ol fashioned young love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Quiet Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Female Inquisitor and Leliana have a quiet chat during a late night. Evenings on the Frostbacks aren't so cold if you have someone to share them with. This fic begins after the battle at Haven during the inquisitions pilgrimage to Skyhold.

The camp was quiet as a slowly wandering city could be, the night as bright as a moonless sky could afford. Samira cut a lonely figure, back hunched against the cold, face turned towards a quickly dwindling fire. The cup that had once held hot spiced wine rested empty and upturned against her still shoe, and though firewood was a call away she sat in motionless complacency as its warm flames began to shiver and shrink. She couldn’t remember how long she had been sitting there, but long ago the calls of goodnight echoing between the maze of darkening tents had died away; her eyes drooped and her joints hummed with a stiff pain, but she could not draw herself from the tiny circle of light.

“I didn’t realize anyone else was awake,” the voice washed over her like cool water, startling her out of stillness. Sam turned in surprise to seek its source, and instead found herself blinking away shadows left by the fire that slid hazily across her field of vision. She cursed herself for staring so long at its flames. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to startle you.” Leliana giggled as she stepped out from the shadowy recess between neighbouring tents, her slippered feet leaving only whispers in the snow. _No wonder she unnerves people. Silent as a damned shadow_. The darker woman waved a gloved hand as if to sweep away a cobweb.

“Don’t worry, you’re guilty of nothing but saving me from making this log my new bed,” it wasn’t a lie - she had been moments from slipping to sleep.

“A service I am happy to provide,” She was silent for a moment, shifting almost bashfully just within the circle of light cast by the fire. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Sam replied, gesturing for other woman to take a seat on a neighbouring log, one that made up the ring of makeshift benches that surrounded every table and campfire within the inquisitions roving borders. She sat daintily, moving as if to smooth her skirts but instead managing to only pull at the chain mail that had fallen taught against her thighs. She did not cross her legs, but rather sat straight backed and with closed ankles, keeping her knees and feet locked together in a position more suitable for a banquet rather than a muddy fireside.

“I was wondering who could be still awake so late, my lady,” She asked after a moment of somewhat awkward silence. Sam sighed and leaned back, resting her hands behind her.

“I think I just needed a moment of quiet after - well. We’ve been busy. It’s nice to have a moment of silence,” She glanced at Leliana, watching the older woman stare solemnly into the fire now as Samira had been doing minutes before. Her lips, the color of ripe peaches, where twisted into a pretty frown, her eyebrows sinking to knot together in distaste. Sam quickly continued, “And it’s even better to have dry shoes for an hour or two.” She raised her feet, clad in soft, stained leather and wiggled them about. It had the desired effect; Leliana turned back to her and giggled.

“Better the wet of summer than the cold of winter, I think,” She replied. “The Frostbacks are mightier than any foe in their winter. Your breath freezes on the wind, a somewhat horrifying sight to behold.” Sam shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around herself.

“I’m forced to believe that everywhere in Ferelden is cold,” she sighed. “I couldn’t have dreamed that Haven would be like a warm oasis compared to this trek.” Her companion laughed, more heartily this time.

“I know what you mean. I miss Orlais fiercely on nights like tonight,” She glanced out of the corner of her eye at Sam quickly, almost coyly. “Here,” Leliana moved from her stump to sit beside Sam on her makeshift bench, bringing them close enough that their shoulders were pushed together. Even in a layer of hard mail, the woman was warm, and Sam fought an involuntary urge to lean into her. Leliana unpinned the cloak draped delicately about her head and shoulders to wrap it around Samira’s. It was soft, lilac tinted silk, that smelled faintly of rose and - something else. _Hazelnut?_ Sam wondered as she fingered the delicately woven fabric.

“I couldn’t -” Her objection was cut short as she turned to her now unrobed companion. Liliana’s hair hovered like a fiery halo about a pale, delicate face; she was older than Sam, but wore the marks of it easily. Despite the lines that formed at the corners of her eyes as she smiled at the darker girl, her skin was luminous, dappled with freckles like stars across the night sky. Her eyes were crisply blue, and the last glow from the embers lay brightly in them, so that her whole being seemed to be lit from within. _She’s beautiful._ Liliana’s hands moved self consciously to smooth flyaway strands of red hair under Samira’s scrutiny.

“Is something wrong?” She asked. “My hair must be an awful mess.” She grinned expectantly at Sam.

“No, nothing like that,” despite herself, she found she was grinning back. She almost made to take the scarf off, give it back, but let her arms fall to her lap instead. “Thank you. That was kind my lady.”

“Call me Leliana.”

“Leliana.”

“And What should I call you, my lady?” The spymaster teased. “Are you the Herald of Andraste this evening?”

“Oh goodness no!” Sam laughed. “Only on very special occasions, I think. Sam is fine.”

“I’ll be sure to look out for some then, Sam.” The two woman stared silently at one another for a moment, both sets of eyes wandering, not entirely appropriately, across starlit features that flickered with the final throws of their fires light.

“I should be heading to bed,” Leliana finally broke the silence. “We’ve got a few long days ahead of us.” Sam nodded, but didn’t move from her seat, unwilling to break the tenuous contact between the two. The spymaster rose gracefully, and held a hand out to the herald in invitation. Sam stared at it in surprise.

“I wouldn’t let a young woman walk back to her tent alone,” she said. “And at night! What would my mother think?” Sam grinned and grabbed it eagerly, letting herself be pulled up; she didn’t object when Leliana wrapped one arm around her own, linking them together. She felt stiff and awkward as the older woman began to lead them forward, but Leliana either didn’t notice or pretended not to. The walk back to her tent was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Their crunching footsteps were the only sound as they strolled between rows of dim canvas, their way lit only by the - for once - clear night sky. They passed no one, somehow managing to avoid the sentries that stalked the makeshift streets at night, and for a few minutes it was easy to pretend that it was just the two of them who would be sleeping in the shadow of the mountains that evening. Too soon they reached the entrance to Samira’s small tent, forcing her to extract her arm from her companions. She moved to remove the cloak still wrapped tightly about her shoulders, but Liliana’s thin fingered hand rested upon her own, stopping her.

“Let it keep you warm tonight,” her eyes twinkled conspiratorially. “It will give you an excuse to find me tomorrow.” Sam eyed the woman thoughtfully.

“I will.” And without pausing for another moment, she pushed aside the canvas of her tents entrance and ducked inside, falling almost at once upon the small cot that was serving as her bed. Her fingers tingled with the echoes of Leliana’s warmth. She kicked off her boots, wet once again from the short walk through camp, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Lying alone, she struggled to hear the sounds of Leliana’s footsteps, but could make out nothing but the whistle of the high mountain wind. It was hours before she managed to drift off to sleep


	2. In the Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana shows off her skills to a very impressed inquisitor.

Leliana’s name was on her tongue even before the forceful light of morning could draw her entirely from her dreams; the smell of her filled Samira’s nose and her face filled her vision, and it was moments before she could blink past the haze of sleep and banish the other woman from her senses. She pushed a clumsy hand to her eyes, rubbing them and stretching languidly beneath her still warm blanket. Her breath, however, frosted in the sunlight that illuminated the canvas tent in a soft orange glow. She sighed, pulling the covers over her head and squirming farther into the tiny tomb that they created, basking in the comfort she knew only hers to enjoy for a few minutes. Around her, the sounds of the inquisitions rise could already be heard echoing between the Frostbacks as women called out to their men, men to their horses, tents were disassembled, belongings were packed, and officers shouted orders to get the camp moving. She had little time before someone was sent to wake her and to collect her tent and belongings, but her late night had taken and toll and Sam could not bring herself to move before she absolutely had to.  
She fingered Leliana’s scarf, still wrapped around her shoulders, running it between the soft pads of her fingertips in consideration. The woman had not been far from her thoughts even while she slept. She was a faceless, red headed intruder for most of the night; a shadow out of the corner of an eye one moment, a spirit appearing from the fade, the next a stranger, pressing a kiss to Samira’s open lips…She flung the blankets off and away, flinging them from the bed with a reckless enthusiasm to be free from their cover, which had suddenly become much too warm. She pulled on her boots quickly, not bothering to change out of her only set of travelling clothes. Nothing else she owned would be warm enough under the chill sun of morning in the mountains. After a moments hesitation, she pulled off Leliana’s cloak, pressing it to her face one last time before stuffing it into the pack in which she now carried most of her worldly possessions. It still carried the sweet smells of roses and something else, unidentifiable. _Chocolate?_ Sam wondered absentmindedly as she left the tent, wandering slowly over to the nearest fire on which a pot of thick, chunky oatmeal was bubbling. A man spooned a steaming pile into a tin cup and waved her away brusquely. She grabbed a spoon from a nearby trencher and began to stroll as she ate; Sam resolved to find Solas before the camp set out to walk with him a while. She didn’t know why, but she was feeling remarkably optimistic about what the day would bring.

 ❅❅❅

She managed to track down Leliana some time a little past midday, when the sun was at its peak as it paced wearily across the sky. Though the morning was clear as the night before had been, the fast approaching cavalry of grey clouds in the distance promised to deliver snow by the evening. The inquisition’s Spymaster was strolling beside Josephine, who had managed to make even her hiking clothes look resplendent and crisply clean. Samira paused from several feet back as she approached them to pull Leliana’s cloak from her pack and smooth it out. She paused as she stepped towards them, stopped, and pulled self consciously at her tangled white hair; the roots were growing in her natural dark brown, and she knew she must look dreadful without even a brush on hand. Hurriedly, she pressed what locks she could down and pinched delicately at her cheeks, hoping to pull some color to weary skin. Satisfied, she jogged quickly to catch up with the pair who had pulled ahead, calling out a greeting.  
“Lavellan! It is good to see you this morning,” Josephine responded with a pleasant smile. “A beautiful day, is it not?”  
“Warmer than yesterday,” Sam replied. “And we must be close now. I fear that if I don’t have a hot bath within the week I might perish.” Josie laughed, covering her mouth with bejeweled fingers. _How does keep those on, trudging through the snow all day?_  
“Good morning Herald,” Leliana filled the momentary silence. “I’m glad to see you well rested.” Her eyes seemed to settle for a moment upon the cloak slung across one of Sam’s arms, but she had turned to face Josephine before the younger girl could be sure she had seen anything. “Josie, I was supposed to meet with one of my agents at noon and have already kept them waiting too long. I’ll find you later?” The other woman nodded easily as Leliana fell back; disappointed, Sam fell into step, only to be stopped short by a hand on her wrist. She glanced first at the pale fingers gripping her intently, then at the smile stretching across Leliana’s face. She leaned towards her conspiratorially.  
“I was actually just hoping for a moment alone,” Her hair looked resplendent in the sunlight, a bramble of hot red strands framing her high cheeks and strong jaw. “I had begun to think I would not be seeing you today.” She began to walk slowly, edging towards the edge of the beaten track that hundreds of feet had laid out before them.  
“And miss the opportunity for such pleasant company?” Sam began to follow. She was sure to leave a sizeable gap between their swaying shoulders.  
“Such flattery!” Leliana giggled. “It’s a wonder you haven’t yet wooed half the inquisition with charm like that my lady.” Sam felt herself blush and turned away to hide her reddening cheeks.  
“I did promise to return this today,” She indicated the cloak in her arms. “I fear for your health in such inhospitable territory.”  
“I think the common cold has lost its edge for me,” She sighed. “It doesn’t seem quite so frightful next to the demon army.”  
“Oh I don’t know,” Sam mused. “I’m passably quick with a dagger. Can’t cook a chicken noodle soup though.” She had meant it to be a joke, but Leliana only glanced at her, an unreadable expression on her face. Her face, scarred and flickering with the sickly glow of red lryium, seemed to swim across Sam’s vision for a moment. _Her future, if I don’t stop it._ She searched for words to express how seriously she was taking her charge, how scared she really was, how much she would give to avoid the horrifying future she had been a part of in Redcliffe. The spymaster saved her from having to find them with a gentle hand to her shoulder.  
“I never fear for a moment, now that we have found you,” She looked earnest, even gentle. “But we fear neither cold nor demons on the road today, so we will not dwell on either any further!” Sam smiled.  
“Agreed.”  
“I do, however, have some duties I need to be attending to. Would you care to join me?”  
“What do such duties entail? Surely I would just get in your way,” Sam was not unaccustomed to the type of work Leliana often engaged in under her role of spymaster, but she had no experience working with numbers as large as those the inquisition boasted.  
“Oh, nothing too challenging,” She waved a hand dismissively. “Scout the path ahead for a few miles, mostly. Many of our agents are injured or…unaccounted for after Haven. I’ve been trying to fill the gaps where I can, but it can be tedious and lonely work.” Samira’s heart leapt at the thought of spending the day alone with the woman, who’s company she had found to be more than pleasant the evening before. _It does not hurt that she is the most lovely creature I have ever laid eyes on_. She ignored such thoughts, frequent as they seemed to come in Leliana’s company. The woman was older, experienced, talented, and clever to the point of indecency. I must be quite the bore to her.  
“Nothing sounds nicer,” She replied honestly. Leliana gave a wicked grin.  
“Follow me then,” And without another word she slipped fluidly into the line of trees that ran parallel to the inquisition’s trail of refugees. Sam slung the cloak still in her arms about her shoulders and dove after her, only fleeting glances of her partner’s slim figure darting between shadows ahead to guide her way. Leliana seemed less a woman and more a spirit; she was in substantial, viscous, flickering. One moment she stood next to her charge, had resting lightly on a shoulder in warning, the next she was yard away and calling in a soft whisper for Sam to follow.  
She did try her best to follow the spymaster’s footprints, stepping where she did and stopping when she was called too, but she felt elephantine next to the effortless expertise Leliana seemed to exude once draped in shade and shadow. Their day passed in that manner: the tall, redheaded woman striding purposefully ahead while Samira followed desperately behind. Leliana would occasionally stop to critique her; she would point out the best way to lay your foot in the snow, how to avoid the snapping of twigs when crossing naked forest floor, the signs of disturbed wilderness that she might have otherwise miss. Sam savoured each of these moments, when Leliana’s hands would slowly, gentle, guide her into position, when she would lean close to whisper a quiet instruction, her breath hot and sweet against the younger girl’s exposed neck. Each time she felt her face grow warm, her fingers quiver with a nervous energy that she could not quiet identify. She would make small mistakes, forcing Leliana to guide her once again, her hands patient and understanding as her words of encouragement. She imagined, at times, that the woman’s hands would stay resting on her waist for longer than entirely necessary; there were moments when she thought, perhaps, that she felt Leliana’s fingers trail across her skin, or linger where they shouldn’t. _But no, what fancy. Who am I to her?_ Despite these misgivings, she found she enjoyed the day more than she had any in recent memory. By the time Leliana called for the pair to halt in the early evening, Sam’s legs were aching and her cheeks whipped red from the cold and the wind. It felt good to do something other than walk for hours on end.  
“You were surprisingly quick today,” Leliana said as the pair began a slow stroll back to beaten path. “I did not expect you to be equipped with such a specific skillset.” Sam beamed at the compliment.  
“You flatter me! I barely kept up.”  
“True,” Her companion giggled. “But still.” They ambled in silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other’s quiet company. The trees before them thinned, then broke, and they walked quite suddenly into a small clearing, untouched snow laid out before them like a crisp, white blanket. They both paused wordlessly, Leliana staring admiringly at the branches lacing above them, glittering in frost, Samira staring admiringly at Leliana. She spun with arms spread wide, laughing as her feet whirled beneath her to form meandering trails as she moved.  
“A woman of many talents I see,” Sam teased. “I didn’t know you were a dancer.”  
“Oh! You mock me, but I love to dance,” Her cheeks were pink, eyes bright with excitement. “Though the snow is not as agreeable an audience as the sea used to be.” Sam followed her twirling footsteps, till the two stood nearly a foot apart in the centre of the clearing.  
“You would dance by the sea?”  
“Where else can one possibly find joy in dancing?”  
“I would imagine anywhere when one is accompanied by the right partner.” Leliana took a step towards her upon seeing the expression now resting on Samira’s face, closing the gap between them.  
“Well then I simply must find one. Do you know anyone who enjoys dancing, my lady Herald?” Sam’s breaths were coming in quick succession; it was somehow becoming difficult to breath, so close was Leliana’s body to her own. She could feel the heat radiating from her, smell the mint that laced her tongue.  
“I have been known to dance, on occasion.” Leliana’s eyes wandered slowly across her face, pausing on her lips, then sinking ever downward. They travelled back up, slipping beneath Samira’s clothes to leave trails of blazing skin whenever the touched. She reached up, suddenly, and Sam half expected the hands to close on either side of her face; instead, she unclasped the cloak still draped across her shoulders.  
“You still have my cloak,” She whispered, slipping it off. “You know, its growing frightfully cold at night here.” Sam pulled through her own fingers and flung it across Leliana’s shoulders. She stepped closer still, fingering the clasp at the other woman’s throat; their bodies were just barely touching now, their breath mingling together between faces just inches apart. Sam could feel her every movement, even through layers of clothing that now seemed more hindrance than anything else. Her heart was beating a wild rhythm, thundering louder than any sound but Leliana’s sweet voice. She thought of the dream she had had that night, the faceless woman who pressed her with quiet kisses; she wondered how Leliana’s lips would taste slid between her own. Her eyes were watching them, plump and soft as peaches, admiring them as they parted hungrily, hopefully. Her own opened in kind, calling out to be filled, aching to be touched. Sam’s fingers slid across one cheek, pushing one lonely strand of hair back into place. She felt a hand resting on her waist, pulling her insistently closer; she acquiesced, pressing her hips into the other woman’s, their lips growing ever closer.  
And then the moment was gone, as Leliana dance away on pointed toes.  
“Herald, it seems to be growing late,” Her voice cracked, but her face was blank and impassive. “Josephine will surely be missing me back at camp. We should return, quickly.” And wordlessly, she turned and disappeared back into the woods. Sam stared after her, panting, sweat beading across her skin and sticking her clothing to it. She wondered briefly if she could have done something different, if she had scared the woman away. _No_ , she thought. _A woman like that will never be mine_. And, sighing, she followed Leliana into the trees.


	3. Finding Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pair finally reach Skyhold, but happiness still alludes them; is a romantic relationship possible between the Herald of Andraste and the Inquisition's ever mysterious spymaster?

She saw little of Leliana in the following days. Indeed, it seemed to her almost as if she was being avoided; the woman was there one moment, gone the next, an insubstantial spectre that would vanish the moment Sam thought that she had finally pinned her down. The first night after their day together, the herald lay awake long after the rest of the camp had drifted to sleep, replaying the moments in that snowy clearing over. Her minds eye wondered like idle fingers across the branches that crisscrossed overhead, their shadows crawling across an untouched surface of brilliant glistening white below, across Lelianas half closed eyes, brilliant and blue, across her skin, dappled with freckles like a sprinkle of spring rain. She lived in the seconds before the other woman leaped away, when their lips hovered so near Sam could not tell their breaths apart and the only feeling in the world was that of Leliana’s hand resting tenderly on her waist. She clutched at the memory jealously, as if any second it could disappear the same as the woman she had fruitlessly been seeking out. She told herself that she would not forget that precious moment, but forget she did as hours and days passed and Leliana was nowhere to be seen. The spymaster could not, however, avoid her for long within the secluded roaming perimeter of the inquisitions force, and so it was that some days later, the two were forced to dine at the same campfire once the column had halted for the night. No one had officially called a meeting of the war council, but Samira, Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine, and a hesitant Leliana found themselves together despite this as their arrival and Skyhold loomed ever closer. Dinner was stew and stale bread, as it seemed to always be as rations grew thinner; the flee from Haven had met none prepared, and little food had been ready to move as the force set out and into the mountains. Luckily, game was not overly difficult to find even in the mountains, so a thick, meaty stew had become a regular dinnertime occurrence.

“And I do wonder about the state we’re going to find it in,” Josephine was saying as Sam took her seat. “Not that I don’t trust Solas’ judgement of course, but that man spends too much time in ruins for me to be able to decipher what ‘relatively good condition’ means.”

“I don’t care what kind of condition it’s in so long as it has some thick walls,” Cullen replied, frowning into his stew. “Really thick walls.”

“We should be thinking about what kind of impression we wish to make, now that the Inquisition has its own holdings. We have been sent banners from the circle of magi and the Ferelden throne, among others,” Josie continued. “Which do you Favour, Leliana? Leliana?” Josephine gave the woman sitting beside her a gentle shove, startling her out of whatever visions she had been entertaining.

“Glad you could join us,” Cassandra quipped. The Spymaster blushed, embarrassed; her freckles stood out in sharp contrast when her cheeks flushed such a daring red.

“I’m sorry Josie. My mind has been on other things.” Josephine looked momentarily concerned, but her face quickly softened to an expression that resembled pity. She rested one hand on Leliana's knee comfortingly.

“We must move on from Haven. There will be time to mourn later, but now we must focus on the future of this organization,” The ambassador prompted gently. Leliana looked more confused than placated, and Sam thought for a moment that she would protest to Josephine’s assumption. She did not believe that the redhead's thoughts lay with Haven. After a moment, however, she simply nodded and smiled, resting a long fingered hand on top of Josephine’s.

“You’re right of course Josie,” every word that poured from her lips was a drop of honey wine, crisp and lilting and beautiful. Her accent was not quite Orlesian, but not quite Ferelden either, nor was it Antivan; it spoke of a woman who never spent too much time in one place. “My whole heart should be dedicated to our cause.” Her eyes met Sam's from across the fire, heat warping her features so that they seemed to twist shyly under such a concentration of attention. Her face fluttered insubstantially as sparks leaped between the pair, floating towards the cloudy night sky before winking suddenly into somber grey ash. They looked darker than their usual sky-blue, like two dim pools resting in shadowed sockets. A shiver of nausea hit Sam unexpectedly as her heart began to race. _Am I the distraction?_ She wondered nervously. Surely no. _We've only known each other a few short weeks..._ But her silent protests fell flat even to herself; she could not deny the pull she had felt to the sister even before the moment cloistered away in the silent branches of the mountain's forests. Leliana had been the object of her attention since the moment they had met. Sam had been weary, shaken, terrified, but still had been struck by the way snowflakes had settled possessively in the soft waves of her already damp red hair. The sister had worn her own exhaustion well, her shoulders still straight and proud and her actions decisive despite the fear that scratched hungrily at the edges of her every word.

Sam had avoided her in Haven, preferring their meetings to be restricted to afternoons huddled in a group around the table in the war room, a body buffering the space between them so that she could not get too close. She would listen to every word Leliana spoke, but seldom offered any thoughts of her own; part of her, she knew, had been scared. This worldly woman, it seemed, could find no companionship in a girl ten years her junior, an elf who's life had been spent in the company of one clan. She had traveled only with her clan, had known only those elves within the clan, and had met only handfuls of strangers, barely knowing those she did meet, never staying long in one place. So she contented herself to listen, weary of embarrassing herself around the charming woman.

The night Leliana had found her, huddled lonely around her dying fire, had been a surprise to Sam, who had thought herself below the sister's company in all but a professional sense. She had thought the sister's attention – the cloak, her company, her jovial laughter and whispered praise as they flew together through the forest – had been mere friendliness. But now, their eyes locked together as the flames danced between them, she began to wonder if it had been something more to the other woman too. Something more that she was rejecting. Sam looked down and away from Leliana's gaze, and despite the warmth radiating from the flames leaping animatedly before her, she felt uncomfortably cold.

“A pragmatic decision, to be sure,” She found herself saying. Her cheeks flushed hotly at how petulant the words sounded, but she refused to make eye contact again. There was uncomfortable pause around the circle where Sam could feel Leliana's eyes on her. Josephine thankfully saved either woman from addressing the tension that began to bubble between them.

“Indeed, one which we should all strive to emulate,” She said. “But, now to the matters at hand...” The group sat discussing the various details of their impending arrival at Skyhold well into the evening, planning how best to accommodate the pilgrims that would undoubtedly be flooding into the new stronghold, which tasks needed to be assigned to various professionals they had travelling among their group, and how best to defend themselves from another attack, should Corypheus be so bold as to seek them out again. The spymaster did not address her as they spoke, preferring instead to direct questions Sam could answer to either Cassandra or Josephine, allowing them to be unwilling mediators in casual conversation. Sam, in turn, refused to address her; a petty action, she knew, but one she could not help but return. She wondered if the other's around the fire could sense the animosity that was growing by the second between the pair. It seemed obvious enough to her, but then again, none of them had seen them speak in the days before. How could they know of the resentment that was beginning to smolder within Samira's chest?

Her anger had not faded by the time the five each retire to their own tents, and she refused to bid Leliana a goodnight, even when she saw the woman approaching her as each of the council had begun to gather their things. She could not bring herself to speak to the Spymaster, not when she was still stewing about a rejection she had not even known she was fearing. Her stomach knotted and unknotted with anger on the short walk back to her tent, her palms sweaty and fingers shaking. She felt like hitting something, like yelling and screaming. _A distraction? Is that all I am?_ She wondered as she tore off her travelling clothes, slipping on instead a warmer woolen tunic. F _ar be it from me to dare tare our all-important spymaster away from her ever-so-crucial skulking._ But no sooner had she flung herself bitterly down onto her cot than there were tears pushing their way down her cheeks. She curled into a ball, squeezing her knees to her chest; Sam had never felt so alone.

❅❅❅

Skyhold appeared on the horizon the next day, and by the evening Cullen had a battering ram hammering at the great doors that sealed it shut, the vast column of the inquisitions pilgrims gathered to watch on the wide bridge that breaches the chasm between the estate to the greater mass of the Frostbacks. A roar shivered through the mass of caravans, livestock, soldiers, and commoners as the heavy doors finally cracked under the commander's efforts, swinging apart to reveal an oasis relatively untouched the mountain's snow. The inquisition moved as a singular object forward, pushing through into the grassy courtyard that lay nestled within towering brick ramparts like a serene valley sitting between jagged mountains. Sam's body was jostled and tugged and the tumult of frantic energy surged around her, few caring about the void crackling between her fingers in their desire to reach their destination. She could not blame them, as she felt herself crying out her joy with them, so relieved was she to finally be finished with such an arduous journey. She pushed forwards, her hands running across bodies she could not name and past faces she could not place, not caring whos shoulders she was pressed against in her passion to reach the open courtyard that lay before them. It was as if the winter had been unable to find their new home; trees pushed through abandoned brick full and green, soft grass was punctuated by colourful wild flowers that greeted them with cheery waving, and the sun beat down with such ferocity that Sam was compelled to shed her warm cloak. She saw the Iron Bull removing his own, gleefully exposing a chest that rippled thickly with hidden muscle and flexing in relief at finally being able to abandon the restricting garment.

She pulled quickly away from the stream of pilgrims that was forcing its way into the space, suddenly aware of how intrusive they seemed in the otherwise silent, ancient hold. She wondered slowly and alone across grass that could not have seen human footsteps in the last hundred years, stepping softly as she could amid beds of quivering blooms. She stretched her arms out beside her, turning her face to be warmed by the sun she feared she would never feel again. Wind brushed at her hair, pulling it back from her face like a lover would a veil, filling her with the scent of honeysuckle and ravenshine. She found herself smiling as she began her exploration of Skyholds vast grounds, heading towards stairs that lead up towards the great keep. As she did, she could just see through the jostling crowns Leliana slip off her boots and smile as her feet found the warm and welcoming earth.


	4. How is Leliana?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition is moving in! The inquisitor seeks advice from Josephine, and begins to appreciate the finer things in life.

She stepped daintily over a rotted wooden board that lay across her path, eyeing the rubble which seemed to surround her from every side distastefully. Weeds grew from between stones torn apart but ware and weather, lit from above by sunlight that pushed through a wall tjat had long ago begun its slow disintegration into dust. Half of the walls in Skyhold had fallen in, and the other half crawled with vines thick as cloth tapestries; the weeds and wildlife that lived in the ancient place had become the artists that writ its history, scrawling their masterpieces across every available surface. The intruder spared no thought for such things as she strolled through the remnants of what once had been a great hall. Her mind was adrift in stormier seas, contemplating the events that had led her to be picking her way through the old castle's rubble that morning. Her hand's clenched and unclenched, remembering the weight of the sword that Leliana had thrust into her hands atop the great stairs leading up to Skyhold's keep. It hardly seemed real, and yet Sam could not deny the echoing voices of the inquisitions hundreds still reverberating in her ears, calling her name, calling her inquisitor.

The war council – her war council – had not warned her that the appointment was forthcoming. She could not blame them, as perhaps with warning a lesser woman would have fled rather than face the responsibility. Still, she wished she had been given more time to prepare, to grow used to the idea before the first man had named her “inquisitor”, a title so foreign to a young girl just recently separated from her clan. And _Leliana named me_. It was a foolish thought, a superficial desire she only dignified by acknowledging, but one that she could not easily dispel. _And Leliana chose me._ She knew of course that she had been selected by all of the advisers, not just the spymaster, and yet knowing that she had been a party to her appointment filled Samira with a glee she had to fight to suppress. She still stung from the rejection she had been dealt days ago by the fire, and this measure of approval was too great to ignore. _And Leliana chose me!_ She grinned as she continued her exploration of the keep, pushing on a door at the far end of the long hall beside the wall that mostly crumbled away, offering a view of the snowy mountains that made up the horizon.

Her advisers – strange how quickly the term settled into her mind – had left her to wander its halls on her own, perhaps recognizing her need for time to absorb the reality of her new position. She had so much now to attend to, after all; there was so much in their battle against Corypheus that she was now responsible for, and part of her itched to begin her work immediately. Despite this, Sam found she could not ignore the call to explore all of the secrets the keep had to offer. Cullen's soldiers had begun their restoration in the ramparts, the commoners in the barns and stables, and so she had the building mostly to herself, an opportunity to rare not to exploit. Each of her steps echoed hollowly about the impossibly high stony ceilings, calling back to her to mark her progress. She forced the door open, its rusted hinges giving way only after some considerable effort, and even then only slightly. She squeezed through the gap she had made, stepping into a wooden stairwell. She pressed one foot carefully to the floor before her, testing its integrity; she didn't trust the fragile wood that had been left too long untended not to give out beneath her weight. When it seemed solid enough, she stepped forward, tracing one wall with outstretched finger tips.

She walked along the passage that wrapped around the walls of what appeared to be part of a tower; the centre of the small room was empty. She saw vast spaced stretched into darkness both below and above when she leaned over the waist high railing following the path. Three steps led up to another door, one that opened much more easily at her touch than the one before. She leaped quickly up the staircase that lay beyond it and into a room that stretched immense and barren before her. It was relatively clean, all of its walls in tact and relatively few debris littering the floor. A small loft situated against the northernmost wall looked down upon the bare floor and the set of double doors that opened up onto a south facing balcony. Another set sat halfway along the adjoining wall opposite the stairs she had just climbed. She walked to the balcony, throwing the doors open before her to fill the room with fresh morning air, shivering as she was buffeted by a breeze that carried with it a reminder of the cold that blanketed the peaks of the mountains surrounding Skyhold. Her hands pressed against the chilly stone rail that surrounded the little enclave, closing her eyes to better feel the wind that pushed insistently against her skin.

“Inquisitor?” A voice called out suddenly from below. Sam's eyes snapped open, and she walked quickly back into the room she had been turned away from. She waited for a moment, unsure whether or not she had imagined the voice. Hearing nothing, she called out instead.

“Hello? Did someone call?” Her voice quivered despite herself. She had little to fear with Cullen's forces crawling across every unoccupied inch of the fortress, but too many unexpected horrors had visited her lately for Sam to feel entirely unconcerned anywhere. Lelian's face suddenly appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and her body quickly following as she saw the inquisitor standing at their peak.

“I'm glad I found you,” She said as she climbed up to meet Sam. “Its easy to lose someone in a place like this.” She smiled.

“I'm sure,” Sam replied coldly, moving away from the woman who had come to stand uncomfortably close. The sister frowned momentarily, but the smile was back on her face a second later.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you alone, but we've not had the opportunity,” She continued. She seemed to wait a moment for Sam to respond, but when no such response was forthcoming she pushed onward. “I wanted to address what I said a few nights ago. Or, I guess, I wanted to talk to you about what happened the other day...” Her voice trailed off hopelessly. Sam's heart was beating a furious thunder that threatened to overwhelm her senses; she struggled to retain composure before the woman.

“I'm not sure at all what you mean,” Her voice was more steady than she could have hoped for, the sentiment impossibly aloof. Leliana really did frown then. Her next words came quickly and angrily.

“You do! You know exactly what I'm talking about,” It sounded half a plea. She took one furious step forward before stopping, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. “I just wanted to ensure that my words had not upset you, since that was absolutely not my intent.” The inquisitor could not believe her gall. She could not apologize so easily for the words that had hung about the young woman's head like a thunderous cloud since they had been spoken.

“So long as it wasn't your intent,” Sam spat.

“I have come to care a great deal for you since you became a part of the inquisition, you know,” She ignored the herald's petulant response. Each words seemed carefully measured, a cautious foot stepping onto dubious terrain. Sam's throat seemed dry and tight as she listened. “A great deal. But that is exactly why I said what I did.” She really was pleading now.

“That I was a distraction? I did not realize our time meant so little to you.”

“On the contrary, your company has been my only light these past weeks,” She almost shouted this, and Sam saw tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. They were bright blue now, clear as a spring morning.

“Then why did you say it?” Sam whispered, taken aback. Whatever she had expected, it had not been this; a warm flutter of hope began to grow in her chest.

“I may appear to wear the mantle of my position easily, inquisitor, but it is not always so. You may remember that until recently, I was the hand of the divine.”

“So?”

“So my life has been entirely upturned. I have lost a woman I loved more wholly than I previously thought possible and my faith in the maker all at once,” She sucked in a desperate breath, tears suddenly falling thick and fast. Sam wanted to run to her, to hold her and comfort her, but instead held her position. “And I would not wish the burden of my attentions on someone so young and so vibrant, someone who already has too much responsibility on their shoulders.” She finished, her shoulders slumping. She stood slackly like a scolded child awaiting punishment. _Oh Andraste, have I been foolish._ She could not stop herself from running to Leliana then, pulling her into a tight hug. The other woman's shoulders shook as she sobbed into Samira's, her hands coming up to clutch hungrily at the elf's flesh; their bodies were pressed so close together that the inquisitor feared she was hurting the woman in her fervour.

“I have been so selfish,” She whispered into the older woman's hair, brushing it gently with one hand.

“No,” Leliana protested. “I should have put a stop to it sooner, but I could not bring myself to extinguish the only thing that has brought me joy since Justinia.” Despite herself, Sam's heart soared to hear herself being described as such. She said nothing, simply holding the other woman as she cried, the two clinging to each other like sailors on a sinking ship. _How cruel of me to forget what this has meant to her_. She glanced at her own hand, knowing that the anchor lay dormant beneath her leather glove. _What must she think of when she sees this? Does she hold me responsible?_ She squeezed her tighter at the thought, unwilling to leave a fraction of space between them. It was minutes before a hiccoughing Leliana withdrew from the comfort of Samira's shoulder.

“You could never be a burden to me,” Sam whispered after a moment. The woman's eyes were puffy and red. Snot and tears streaked her face so that it shone damply in the slivers of light from the balcony's open windows.

“Its not only that,” Leliana admitted. “How would it look, the inquisitor having an affair with her spymaster?”

“It would look happy,” Sam answered. “Because I would be.” The spymaster smiled, and the herald wiped away a tear with one gentle fingertip.

“It would look suspicious. Especially considering my relationships with both the hero of Ferelden and Justinia,” She protested. “And there's the matter of your age...people would think I was controlling you, controlling the inquisition.”

“But you wouldn't be!”

“I know,” Leliana grabbed her face and held it between soft fingers, forcing Sam to look into her eyes. “You have to play the game, inquisitor. They would assume. It doesn't matter if they're wrong.” Her heart, so happy moments before now felt like a leaden weight sinking through her chest, tearing apart her flesh as it moved. She was right, of course, but this did not stop the tears that sprung to fill her eyes. The confrontation had lasted only minutes, but Sam felt as if everything had changed; everything felt a little bit different.

“What is the point, then, of all this power?” She asked, defeated. Leliana laughed sadly and pulled her closer.

“When you figure that out, let me know,” she whispered, and pressed a slow kiss to the inquisitor's forehead. Sam closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of her, that indescribably scent she could never quite place. When she opened them up again, Leliana was gone, only footprint left in the dust to show where she had been.

 ❅❅❅

The following day was spent moving the more essential members of the Inquisition into those parts of Skyhold fit, in some degree, for habitation. Samira took the room she had found the previous day after some encouragement from Josephine who insisted she make her quarters near to the room in which their council meetings would be held. She had few personal belongings; those she had been carrying before the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes had been lost somewhere in the confusion of the rift tearing open the sky, and the little she had managed to acquire in Haven she had been force to abandon as she fled. As a result, most of her worldly possessions fit easily into a travelling pack. She had thrown this onto the floor in one corner of the room and had considered herself well moved in when Josephine found her.

“What is this, Inquisitor?” She gasped as she stepped into the empty space.

“I hardly own anything else, Josephine,” She replied, bemused. “Or did you think I kept a chest of drawers in my back pocket?” The ambassador stared at her with an expression between shock and incredulity.

“The Inquisition will of course be providing furniture suitable to your appointment, my lady. We have already sent away for some pieces from an Orlesian merchant, but until they arrive I imagine the simpler fare we have on hand will be quite sufficient,” She glanced at Sam quizzically. “What did you imagine you would do when forced to entertain private guests? Visiting nobility?” Sam shrugged.

“I've never had to entertain anyone before, I suppose,” She replied. Josephine excused herself with the promise of finding some assistance in bringing up the articles that had been set aside for the Herald, true to her word reappearing some minutes later with two large men and a great oak bed in tow. The ambassador rushed hurriedly back and forth across the room as each piece was brought in, inspecting it quickly and then directing where it should be placed. A carpet nearly as large as the entire room was spread across the floor, and boxes of books were hauled up the stairs by two slim women, undoubtedly mages, who looked more than a little disgruntled at having been conscripted into decorating the inquisitors quarters.

Josie rattled off the name of each book as she placed them carefully onto the tall bookshelves erected behind the desk in one corner, occasionally punctuating the list with exclamations of “we were most fortunate to find this particular volume,” or “you simply must read this one soon, inquisitor,” as she worked. Wihle Sam helped where she could, hoisting an item or two up the stairs or sweeping dirt tracked in by their helpers, she largely acquiesced to Josephine's direction in the decoration of the room. When she was told the bed would look better against the other wall, or a book would fit better one shelf up she followed the orders without hesitation, trusting the judgement of her ambassador. When at last they were finished, both women collapsed sweaty and dishevelled onto the plush chaise standing against the railing following the stairs. The sun had crawled several degrees across the clear sky, and the room was lit sets of tall windows that punctuated adjoining walls.

“A room fit for the inquisitor,” Josephine said, smiling. “What do you think?” Sam surveyed the room thoughtfully. “

It certainly is...big.”

“You don't like it?”

“No, of course I love it,” She said quickly, hearing the indignation creeping into Josephine's voice. “Its just...big. Much bigger than I'm used to. I guess I just find it difficult to believe that its all mine.” The other woman considered this carefully.

“Of course you would have lived in a waggon travelling with the people, I should have remembered,” She replied. “But surely you would never feel cramped in such accommodations, surrounded by all the wilderness Thedas had to offer?”

“You would be surprised,” Sam laughed. “Its different, living in the open like that. Nature, the wilds, its communal space. We share it. The only thing that was my own was my bed, and even that was in a caravan that belonged to my mother.” She looked again around the room, struggling to conceive of such a space being used by just her. “I hardly know what I'll do with all of this.” Josephine laughed.

“I'm sure you'll find someway to entertain yourself up here, Inquisitor,” Sam glanced at her, surprised by the jape. Her mind wandered to the day before, her eyes trained on the spot where she and Leliana had stood, holding one another. A silence settled about the pair as the herald considered her next words.

“How is Leliana?” She asked finally. If Josephine was surprised by the question, she didn't show it.

“I'm not sure I know what you mean, my lady.”

“I mean is she doing well? Will she be okay here, with her duties as Spy master and...and everything.” She trailed off, not knowing quite what else to say. The other woman looked uncomfortable, shifting absently in her seat before replying.

“You could ask her yourself Inquisitor. I'm not sure its my place to speak for her.” “Josie,” Sam asked, and something in her voice must have betrayed her thoughts, because Josephine turned to look at her, brow knitted in concern.

“You've known her longer than I. She won't tell me everything.” The ambassador sighed, looking away from Sam once again and turning to stare instead at her hands which lay entwined in her lap.

“Shes doing better than could be expected, but she is still plagued with guilt.”

“Over what?” Sam asked, incredulous.

“Over Justinia. Over Haven, over her agents that have died, over what is to come, over everything,” Josephine replied. She had barely stopped speaking when Samira was yelling her reply.

“But none of those are her fault!”

“I know that Inquisitor, and you know what, but she doesn't,” Josie chided. “What she needs right now is some friendship, and a little forgiveness.” The herald wondered how much Leliana had told her friend at those words. _Nothing about us_ , she knew, _or else Josephine would not be telling me so much._ Before she could ask anything else, the other woman stood, brushing imaginary grime from her dress.

“I apologize, my lady, but I have much to attend to today,” She excused herself and left Sam with her thoughts.

 ❅❅❅

Skyhold's garden was nestled between the keeps fat mass and the towering ramparts that encircled the inquisition's hold. Once, Samira thought as she brushed her fingers against one archway that punctuated the open halls running around its perimeter, it must have been a beautiful and lively thing. Shattered clay pots lay in sodden piles of loam, debris of ages past layered thickly and wetly atop fertile earth so that at every with step it seemed to squelch in discomfort. Trees and vines had overrun this place as they had most of the estate, so that as she entered she felt as if she were stepping into the forest itself. Rather, she would have felt that way were it not for the dozens and men and women that seemed to be darting across every surface in sight, pulling at weeds or attacking cobblestones layered in dirt with stiff brushes and buckets of soapy water. Leliana was directing one such activity, shouting commands at a pair of men who were attempting to dig out a particularly stubborn stump that had made its home in the centre of the area. She waved when she saw Sam and came to greet her where she stood watching.

“Why are you pulling it out?” The inquisitor asked. “Isn't this a garden?” Her clan had found their way through scores of forests during her youth, and she had trouble remembering a time when the elves had changed the landscape to fit their needs in such a way.

“This place is too small to be used for growing fruits or vegetables,” She explained, gesturing to another man that was occupied in chopping down an apple tree too young even to bare any fruit. “It will be used for growing rarer herbs that our alchemists and physicians require for their work.” Sam had not before considered where such workers would be acquiring their necessary supplies from, and said as much to Leliana.

“I know so little about what I'm doing here – how I'm supposed to do this job,” She lamented, watching the men work. “I'm worried about what I'll let slip through the cracks if I'm not careful.”

“That why you have us, Inquisitor,” She replied with a grin. “To do the real work around here.” Sam pushed her playfully, frowning in mock disapproval.

“You'd best watch out, or I'll call down all the mighty power of Andraste down upon you!” Sam threatened, doing her best to seem menacing. She raised her arms above her head expectantly, as if to call down lightening. Leliana laughed warmly.

“And what power is that, oh Herald?” She let her arms fall and gave a puzzled frown.

“You know, I'm not actually sure,” She admitted. “My keeper never taught us a whole lot about Andraste.” A comfortable silence fell between them as they stood just beyond the archway, watching the pair still digging at the ancient plant's great roots, pulling great stones from its embrace and tossing wads of earth and grass behind their ever widening hole. After a minute or two, Leliana crouched to sit upon the step that marked the entrance to the perimeter hallway. Sam bent to join her, resting one shoulder against the archway itself; the stone was cold and dirty but the woman had become acutely aware of the space between her and her partner as she sat. There was less than a foot separating their bodies, and Leliana had left her hand resting in the space between them. Sam was sure to keep her own clasped firmly in her lap.

Though their torso's were hidden by shade, the young girl found that if she stretched her legs out before her the sun was hot and heavy, quickly warming through her wool pants and leather boots. She tugged them off and rolled her cuffs up to her knees, letting her skin brown in the heat from overhead. Leliana paused a moment, watching her, then did the same, revealing legs smooth and pale as porcelain. Her knees were dotted with freckles the same as on her face, though her hair was a softer and paler red than that on her head; a small cluster of tiny, fingernail sized scars twisted the flesh near her right ankle, and Sam found herself staring at them, wondering what could possibly have caused them. Soon her eyes grew tired of the sight and began to wonder, tracing the outline of the woman's delicate calves, brushing against the hardened skin of her knees till they reached her thighs still glad in a dark wool. She knew she was staring, but could not bring herself to stop. Leliana either did not notice or did not care, for she said nothing as Sam's gaze continued its journey across the contours of her body.

Her stomach beneath her rough grey tunic was not flat or taught but soft and slightly pudgy, a bulge betraying her tiny belly. Her hair was vibrant and silken, a sheet of gorgeous autumn red that brushed the tops of her shoulders with ends cut blunt and neat, making Samira wonder when the woman had time to trim it so regularly. She almost touched self-consciously at her own mop of untidy false-white strands, but refrained lest she betray her fascination with Leliana's own locks. Her lips were full, pouty and pink today, an alluring heart-shaped mound that sat beneath a slim, straight nose a little too long for her narrow face. Her cheeks were hollow, a feature that did not age her but rather betrayed her weariness as the purple bags beneath her eyes did. Her eyes themselves were clear and lively as ever as they watched the men absently, though her lids seemed to be growing heavy in the calming warmth of the spring sun, dropping thick strawberry blonde lashes down to dust lightly against pink cheeks as she blinked sleepily. The corners of her eyes bore the familiar lines of laughter, as did her forehead; were it not for the burgeoning wrinkles that marked her, Sam considered, it would be easy to mistake her for a younger woman.

She suddenly wondered how old Leliana really was. _Old enough to have travelled with the hero of Ferelden during the blight. I was only fifteen then_. The spymaster had to be more than ten years Samira's elder, yet she thought that she had never seen a woman more beautiful. She had committed each facet of her face to memory, and still her eyes could not seem to drink their fill. She continued to stare. Minutes passed in this fashion, Leliana gazing with glazed eyes at the figures still digging before them, Sam watching her in apparent fascination; neither felt any obligation to fill the silence. It was, both of them thought, good to just have some company. Finally, Leliana broke the stillness that had grown between them.

“What would Vivienne say if she saw us now?” She turned to look at Sam, who blushed furiously at having been caught staring. She wiggled her bare toes in explanation.

“I fear Madame de Fer shall never approve of anything I do,” She lifted a hand to push away a beetle that hand landed on her face. Leliana shifted closer suddenly, raising a hand up to Sam's face. Startled, she pulled back, shrinking against the stone of the archway. The spymaster blinked in surprise.

“You've just got a bit of dirt...” Her voice trailed off shyly.

“Oh. Go ahead then,” Sam relaxed, placing her face near Leliana's hand, which moved to meet her. Her fingers brushed at the smudge so gently the inquisitor feared she would have missed their touch at all had she not been expecting it, yet they left a trail hot as smeared embers across her cheek. Her body seemed to ripple in response to the woman's touch, and she fought to remain still and calm. “Thank you.” They're hands rested on the stone between them, and as Sam stared at the woman before her she felt their fingers graze one another tentatively. Neither one pulled their hand back. Somewhere far away, a man called out and Leliana turned her head to frown at the two who had somehow managed to free the stump from the earth and were now yelling for her attention. She sighed, withdrawing and pushing herself up, wiping dirt from her legs and slipping her boots back on.

“It appears I am needed. I will see you soon, Sam,” She paused as she walked away, turning to look back at the inquisitor. “This has been lovely. Thank you.” The young woman nodded in response, herself standing as she prepared to leave. As she wandered back through the hallways of the keep, her calves still warm from their bask in the sun, she thought that she agreed. _What a lovely day is has been._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Experimenting with Chapter length! Let me know if you'd prefer less frequent + shorter updates, or ones a bit longer like this :) And I hope you liked it!


	5. Welcome Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samira returns from a short journey to find a happy Leliana. They have a picnic and talk about their childhoods.   
> Was supposed to be a little drabble but its long enough somehow to be its own chapter!!

“We should put in a pond,” Samira said, her feet kicking in the open air.   
“Put in a pond?” Repeated Leliana from beside her. “How on earth would be do that?”   
“I don't know how to build lakes, I'm just the idea girl. You just kind of dig one, surely?” The two sat on the brick ledge that divided the upper level of the hold, on which sat the keep, and the lower level on which the infirmary tents had been erected just below where both of their feet currently swung. The sun was low and heavy in the sky at their backs, though they sat in shadow cast by the great castle and the parapets that stretched about the island-like peak on which Skyhold had been built. The grass that lay below them, however, was still painted a vibrant sunflower yellow by its last rays. Music and laughter from the tavern behind them, filling slowly as the day drew to a close, wafted to join them upon the ledge, harmonizing rather than competing with the soft song of crickets that accompanied all evenings in the fortress.   
Sam's body ached with exhaustion after what had been a hard ride, only having returned back at Skyhold early that afternoon. She had spent the last fortnight in Crestwood trying to close a fade rift that had opened at the bottom of the region's great lake. It had been a wet, muddy two weeks of constant rain, the sun only emerging on the day she and her companions had begun their journey home. The stench of decay that Crestwood's corpses had carried with them as they crawled from the murky waters had clung to her for the remainder of their journey, an entirely unwelcome companion.   
Thoughts of Leliana had plagued her as much as the consistent moisture gathered in her boots and the scent of flesh that no amount of bathing could seem to rinse from her hair. She had assumed that weeks away from the woman would dampen the affection she felt for her, but quite the opposite, it seemed to do nothing by enhance Samira's attraction to the spymaster. She found herself daydreaming about the sound of her laughter, the way her hair shimmered in the sun, the way her eyes would narrow when she was confused and the way her eyebrows knit together when she frowned; each affectation was plastered to her closed lids as she lay in her cot at night. She had found herself taking note of interesting landmarks they passed in their travels, or interesting stories she heard from fellow pilgrims, nesting them away to share with Leliana later. They had at one point crossed paths with a merchant on his way to Val Royeaux, who had been more than willing to offer the mighty inquisitor a discount on his wares. Sam had chosen a pair of fine black gloves, thinking of her friend waiting at Skyhold.   
She suspected she was missed just as much by the sister in the her absence. The herald had no sooner stumbled wearily into the war room than Leliana was throwing her arms about Sam in a crushing embrace. She had withdrawn quickly, clearing her throat and smoothing out the wrinkles in her tunic self consciously, apparently remembering the others in the room with them. Sam herself had been flustered by the sudden display, but had brushed off her surprise smoothly as she greeted her other advisers.   
She had been bathing in a tub pungent with a variety of oils and soaps, a much needed luxury after weeks of living in a muddy tent, when a runner had found her with a message from Leliana. The girl had dressed quickly, selecting a comfortable pair of brown cotton pants and a bright red shirt that contrasted prettily with her ocher brown skin, deepened the last few weeks by her time in the sun; she brushed her hair back and set it with a sticky, wet gel that kept it slicked back from her face, and hurriedly pinched at her cheeks as she rushed out the door on her way to see the sister. Leliana was waiting for her by the time she arrived at the great set of double doors that made up the entrance to the keep with a cloth bundle clutched in pale hands. Inside, Sam found out when the other woman lay it between them as they took seats upon the ledge, was packed a still warm loaf of bread, a tiny pad of butter, a wheel of soft cheese, and some pepper jelly. The herald cooed her amazement over the last, a somewhat rare condiment that she had thought would be impossible to import into the Frostback mountains of all places. Leliana had simply grinned proudly.  
“Someone told me it was your favorite,” she had admitted. “Though I did not expect to have to use quite so many of my connections to find some.” They ate slowly, savoring each bite as well as they did each others company. Leliana groaned in delight at her first morsel of the pepper jelly, thrusting the crust of bread on which it had been spread towards Samira, who opened her lips to receive it enthusiastically. She watched as Leliana sucked the sticky-sweet substance from each of her fingers, not sure whether she was more jealous of them or the tongue that darted quickly to lap at the glistening substance. The spymaster chatted pleasantly throughout the small meal, informing the herald of everything that had been happening within Skyhold during her absence.   
Varric had gifted Cole a collection of his books which the young boy had begun to consume voraciously, and Vivienne had been invited to dine with Fiona, though no one had known the outcome of the meal; it was idle gossip, but Leliana told it with such enthusiasm that Sam could not help being enthralled.  
“Oh! I almost forgot, what a mystery we have,” She whispered conspiratorially, beckoning Sam closer. “Josephine found a single rose on her desk one morning, which we found to only grow in one place - Lady Cassandra’s private garden.” Samira in turn told her of everything she had seen over her journey, recounting some of the tales she had heard on the road and bemoaning the hardship of life without access to a bath. When they had finished eating, however, neither made a move to leave; instead, the bundle had been pushed away, leaving space for the two to move a little bit closer together. So they had stayed as the world grew dimmer around them, unable to tare away from one another after having spent so long apart.  
“There was a pond we would always visit,” Sam continued, her eyes distant. “Every year we would stop in the same place, deep in this forest. I always thought it was a bit strange - we would stay there for weeks, even though there was nothing and no one else around for miles. And there was this pond, a bit smaller than this,” she gestured down below. “That we realized must have been built there long before our time.”  
“Why do you say that?” Leliana asked.  
“From the surface it looked natural enough, but once you dived beneath, the thing was built out of these huge stone slabs,” She held up her hands to show how big they had been. “And they all had these pictures painted on them. The ones closer to the top were faded and chipped, but at the bottom they were still relatively well perseved. We made a game of diving down and seeing who could find the most.” Leliana looked curious.  
“Who could have made it then?”  
“We had no idea, or at least, no one told me if we did. I was young,” she continued. “Just a child really. I haven’t been in so long.” She gazed emptily out at the scene before her, not really seeing, just remembering the time she had spent there as a child, paddling in the pools depths.  
“You could go back,” Leliana suggested gently. Sam shook her head, shattering the visions she had been entertaining and shrugging self consciously.  
“I don’t know if I can ever go back to my clan,” she gestured wildly around her. “Not after all of this.” The other woman said nothing, though as they both turned back to face the clearing below, Sam felt a hand rest gently on her own. She feared to breath, lest she disturb it. They were both quiet for a few short minutes, both contemplating what the other could never understand; Leliana's thumb moved in slow circles across the top of Samira’s hand, leaving burning trails across her flesh. The girl quivered in her effort to ignore the attention this small gesture had afforded her, lest by acknowledging it Leliana would be forced to withdraw. The sister eventually broke the silence, though not the contact between them.  
“Did I ever tell you, I grew up by the sea?”  
“I didn’t know.”  
“I lived beside the Waking Sea for much of my childhood. My bedroom had a terrace from which you could gaze out onto the water for miles,” her eyes were far away, as if she were watching a watery horizon as they spoke. “And I used to practice my dancing there.” Sam waited for her to say more, but she didn’t, continuing only to stare into the distance. _There's so much I don't know about her._  
“It sounds beautiful,” she said; she could imagine a tiny Leliana, slim and graceful and pretty even as a girl twirling before a setting sun while the waves below cheered their encouragement. “Why did you leave?” She smiled sadly, and looked back to Sam.  
“I grew up, as young girls are want to do,” her eyes hardened. “And I learned that not all of us can spend our lives dancing.” Sam was suddenly struck with a sadness for the woman who sat before her, face stiff and shoulder's stiffer. _She is too young to think the world so cruel._ Her fingers were hard against Samira’s hand, her nails digging into the soft skin. _How can someone so beautiful think the world so ugly?_ She struggled to think of some consolation, of some way to convince this woman - who's life had been so challenging, so disheartening - that there was still good in the world.   
Sam remembered suddenly the Leliana she had met in that wavering future Alexius had thrust her into, remembered twisted flesh and torn skin gripping resolutely and unshaken at the string of a bow at the enemies approaching. She thought of Leliana strung up, refusing even as her jailors had leered up at her to betray in the inquisition. She had not swayed in her resolution once she knew what had to be done. It was a fate she had accepted the moment, Sam realized, that she had left her cell. To her, there had been no other ending.   
_Sentimentality is not an option._ The words had seemed vicious to Samira then, but now she saw them for what they were: the woman's protection, her shield, a cloak she could wrap about herself to keep the cold hands of cruelty at bay. She had learned to push because complacency, trust, and comfort were amenities never afforded to this girl who had seen so much. The herald shifted to lay her other hand atop Leliana’s. Startled, the sister looked down, her grip slackening.  
“But some of us can,” she whispered, turning Leliana's hand in her own and bringing it to her face. She pressed the woman’s pale fingers to her lips in a soft kiss. It was a common curtsey, but in the context felt almost sinful. She fought the urge to glance around, afraid of someone intruding on so intimate and act but unwilling to pull away as Leliana stared into her eyes. After a moment, she dropped the sisters hand and turned away, silent as if the exchange had never happened. She felt the spymasters eyes on her for a second or two longer, but soon she turned too to stare in the same direction as Sam. In that way, they sat with shoulders barley brushing together long into the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real fic! So I would appreciate any feedback/advice/criticism that you might have for my first time publishing my writing :). I hope you like it!


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